Coffee And Pie
by Kerrison
Summary: The senses often trigger the most clear and profound memories. Booth and Brennan each remember moments in a part of their relationship that has long-since past.
1. Chapter 1

**D'angeli and I were chatting this afternoon about some of the spoilers floating around and in her infinite wisdom, she inspired this very rough & quick two-shot about our favorite folks. Blame her for the idea. Blame me for the story.  
**

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Her fingers wrapped tightly around the coffee mug, the warmth of the steaming liquid heating the ceramic and, by proxy, warming her fingers.

The aroma of the roasted beans tickled her nose and, as happened occasionally, her thoughts strayed to what she considered to be one of the few moments of contentment in her adult life.

She could tell he didn't usually mix business with pleasure.

His reticence was obvious in his kiss. But that didn't damper her enthusiasm; she traced his lips with her own with as much abandon as she felt.

He was, without a doubt, one of the most attractive male specimens she had ever met. And aside from his physical appearance, what she had experienced of his personality indicated a tendency to loyal, honest and responsible behavior that was truly attractive in its own right.

He always respected her intelligence, even when he disagreed. One wouldn't think that it would be hard to be respectful of her IQ, but in her experience a smart woman often intimidated a man.

But not him.

He reveled in it.

She remembered vividly how his breathing had become more labored when she traced her fingers across his warm skin, whispering the names of the bones in his ear.

"Scapula. Clavicle."

Her lips peppered his jaw line with gentle kisses and between each caress she whispered "Mandible" and "Maxilla." When she reached the shell of his ear, her breath teased the sensitive skin with the word "Pinna."

With every word, with every Latin inflection, she felt his fingers tremble where they gripped her hips.

He didn't run from her intelligence. He embraced it.

He embraced her.

Long after they had both satisfied their biological urges, he still embraced her.

She remembered rolling onto her side, watching the sky color with the vibrant sunrise through the window sheers. And she remembered the feel as he rolled to his side, curling his frame around hers. He had wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him.

He had dipped his head and placed a delicate kiss against the back of her neck. And for the briefest of moments she had forgotten the word for that portion of the human anatomy. For the briefest of moments she allowed herself to revel in the very female, very instinctive feeling that came from being carefully cradled by your lover.

And now, as the warmth slowly left her mug of coffee, Brennan shook her head, as if to clear the memory away.

At one time, many years ago, they liked each other. And they allowed themselves to like each other.

At one time, many years ago, the line hadn't existed.


	2. Chapter 2

He stabbed the pie with his fork, sparing a quick glance to the baked apple coated in spices before he shoved the fork and its contents into his mouth.

He fought back a reflexive grin as the flavors coated his mouth.

As a child, he had never been fond of pie. Even as a young man, the dessert hadn't been on his top-ten list.

Donuts? Sure. He was a cop, after all. The occasional piece of cake? Definitely.

He hadn't developed a full appreciation for pie until that night at the bed and breakfast in northern Virginia. That night when the B&B accidentally overbooked, leaving them one room short. That night when she had draped her arms around his neck and arched her eyebrow enticingly. When he had finally given in to his 'biological urges' and stopped reciting saints to try to keep his erection at bay. When he crushed her hips against his own and leaned in to nuzzle her neck as she nibbled a sensuous path along his temple. When he finally learned the scent of body wash she used; Vanilla.

In all his fantasies he had imagined she'd smell up-close the way she did from afar: like baby-powder from the lotion she would use on her hands after they had been encased in latex gloves all day.

But no, she had to smell like his grandmother's apple-pie. His Aunt Ruth's Banana Nut Bread. His grandfather's vanilla pancakes. Like every memory he had of comfort and love and reassurance.

He explored her with his mouth, his tongue, his nose, his eyes, his hands; every part of him committing the experience to memory.

That time, the first time but not the last time, he traced her arms, whispering nothings to her about her strength. He fluttered kisses over her eyelids, praising her ability to see the truth where others only saw bone. He covered her lips with his own, his hands gently cradling her head, saying without words what he hoped she understood.

It had been slow and painstaking. And fast and maddening. And everything that their partnership, friendship – no, _relationship_ - was.

It had left him feeling both empty and full. So sated but still wanting so much more. He craved her touch, her voice, her inquisitive look as she studied him as if he were a piece of evidence on her table.

He had traced patterns in her hair afterwards, when they both lay wrapped in each other's arms — an act she softly admitted wasn't her typical habit. He had smirked and managed to hold back the urge to kiss her temple.

When her breathing had evened and his chest stopped heaving, she had laced her fingers with his hand, tugging it towards her lips. As she kissed the knuckle of each finger, she recited the names.

He felt himself swallow at her ministrations and the breath caught in his throat when her attentions moved upward. Her fingers traced his Adam's Apple and he heard her whisper "prominentia laryngea" before her tongue snaked out and laved his throat.

With a resilience he hadn't felt since his twenties, he felt himself harden in response. When she moved so she was straddling him, he settled his hands on her hips but otherwise forced himself to remain still while she traveled her fingers across his aching flesh.

Much later, Booth remembered the feel of her rolling over, away from him in what he knew was an attempt to find some privacy after an intimate night. But the pull to keep her in his embrace overwhelmed him and he slipped his arms around her and molded his body to hers.

He felt her tense for the smallest of seconds before relaxing into his arms. And it was the fact that she relaxed that brought the grateful grin to his face.

He ducked his head and kissed the nape of her neck. And was once again greeted with the smell of Vanilla.

And now, as he chewed another bite of apple pie, he shook his heads as if to clear the memory away.

At one time, many years ago, they liked each other. And they allowed themselves to like each other.

At one time, many years ago, the line hadn't existed.


End file.
